


Just a little treat

by ko_writes



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sweeney Todd (2007)
Genre: Blood, Cannibalism, F/M, Gore, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5117648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: treat</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a little treat

   It was a treat for Martin to not have rice or pasta, even baked potato paled in comparison to this.

   He took a cleaver to the joint, ruby blood splattering the floor; what a terror it will be to clean, but he couldn’t say he cared in that moment. This meal was a delicacy, after all.

   He placed the meat, raw and almost pulsing; the best way to serve.

   It wasn’t insane. It wasn’t part of some grandiose ceremony. It was for necessity, and the taste was always appealing to him.

   He took a seat at his cheap dining table and sliced into the meat, the blood and juices seeping onto the pale crockery… perfection, and thumbed through his battered copy of Sweeney Todd.

   The flavours exploded in his mouth and he groaned, ignoring the trail of ruby dripping down his chin. So many people debated if the flavour was like beef, or like pork; he could tell them. However, that would give the game away.

   Martin cut away the fat and disposed of his cutlery, using his hands and teeth to consume the rest of the meat like a dog.

   “Well…” He thought in amusement, “I’ve always been rather feral.”

   He chewed on the bone when he finished his meal. His meal, of course, being his very own recipe; Douglas a la Martin. He was a mighty fine pilot, but the young man thought he made a much better meal.

   “I think I really did love you, Mrs Lovett,” He smirked, gazing at their illustration on the cover. The illustration of what he used to be in dear Fleet Street, all those years ago, “You made excellent pies.”


End file.
